


It is what it is and it is love

by sweet_tea_and_petrichor



Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: Established Relationship, Ficlet, Fluff, I couldn't sleep so I wrote..., M/M, No plot just fluff, Parentlock, Sharing a Bed, bunnys, did I mention fluff?????
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-16
Updated: 2017-01-16
Packaged: 2018-09-17 22:58:54
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 933
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9349997
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sweet_tea_and_petrichor/pseuds/sweet_tea_and_petrichor
Summary: “Papa, I brought you a case!”Triggered by these words John heard a muffled “Case?” followed by a “Humpf!” that marked the moment Rosie jumped on the bed and on Sherlock’s stomach. John smiled and went back to the bedroom.a little feel-good ficlet about the family dynamic in 221b.





	

**Author's Note:**

> I couldn’t sleep (because of rl stuff)... so no sleep for me, but a ficlet for you... Not beta’d, britpicked or whatever ... Might be rubbish because of sleep deprivation, but maybe you have fun with it. Please be nice because being nice is what we need right now!  
> I know, I still owe you the second chapter of "Cold Feet" and I still work on it, but the second chapter is a beast (don't ask why, it's just me)...

„Daddy!!!“ 

Rosie ran up the stairs of 221b. She was way too early. The 6-year-old girl threw her rucksack on the living room floor and started rambling into the open space.

“She’s picking up bad habits.” John thought as he emerged from the bedroom.

“Darling, what is the matter?” John mumbled. His voice was still sleepy because the flat’s subtle invasion by his lovely little offspring rose him up from his nap. Rosie turned on her own axis, her blond locks flew around her head. 

“Daddy?” she said surprised like she hadn’t called for him a second ago. Yes, she was definitely picking up bad habits. 

“Daddy, where is Sherlock?” she asked.

“In the bedroom…” John mumbled and pointed behind him. Rosie’s face lit up.

“PAPA!” she screamed and ran to the bedroom. John didn’t even notice the different ways his daughter referenced to Sherlock anymore. It was like when you were a child and an adult called you by your full name and you knew you were in trouble. With Rosie it was the same: Daddy and Papa, when everything was fine and John and Sherlock, when she was angry… and a second ago she was dissatisfied that Sherlock wasn’t in the living room. 

“Papa, I brought you a case!”  
Triggered by these words John heard a muffled “Case?” followed by a “Humpf!” that marked the moment Rosie jumped on the bed and on Sherlock’s stomach. John smiled and went back to the bedroom. 

Sherlock rolled Rosie from his belly to the mattress. She snuggled into the cushions. Sherlock propped himself up on one elbow and asked: “Rosie, it’s 10.47. You shouldn’t be home before 12.30.”

“I know!” she said and rolled her eyes. “If you’d listen to me, you would know that I brought you a case!” Sherlock raised his eyebrows. Rosie nodded and wriggled his finger for him to come nearer. Sherlock leaned down and she whispered: ”The hound is back…”  
Then she clasped her hands in front of her mouth and giggled. John, who had observed the scene from the door frame, sat down on the edge of the bed slightly alarmed. He shrugged his shoulders as Sherlock looked at him questioningly. 

“Rosie, darling what are you…” John began and then the penny dropped. “You found the blog!” Rosie winced a little.

“Maybe…” she answered.

“Rosie! We talked about it, I tell you the stories from the blog as long as you are not searching for it! And when you are old enough I would show it to you and we talk about it! You agreed!” John said. He didn’t raise his voice, but he was very angry. 

Rosie looked at her father. “John!” she said “I didn’t search for it, my friends showed it to me, obviously. But this isn’t important right now. The game is ON!” she proclaimed, still lying on the bed, a single finger raised to the ceiling. It looked adorable. 

“Then tell us about the case…” Sherlock gave in. They learned the hard way about the strong will of little Watson.

Rosie’s lips split in a bright smile. “Listen, Mister Pickles has disappeared…” and while the little girl lost herself in a story, that you could only understand if you were a six year-old child, Sherlock mouthed to John: “Mister Pickles?”

John mouthed back: “The rabbit!”

Sherlock’s furrowed eyebrows suggested that he had no idea what John was talking about.

“Are you even listening?!” Rosie interrupted the silent dialogue which took place over her head. 

“Of course! Go on.” Sherlock said with a smile and draped his blanket over her. Rosie cuddled herself a little deeper in the sheets and her voice got a little slower as soon as the warmth embraced her.

Sherlock on the other side picked up the silent conversation with John. 

“What?!” he mouthed.

John rolled his eyes (he was picking up bad habits, too): “The pet of the class! A rabbit!”

“Oh!” finally Sherlock understood just in time to hear Rosie’s last mumbled sentences: “Mister Pickles was very tired in the past few days and then he disappeared. Like Bluebell in your story, daddy. Peter showed it to me…” she yawned.

John face softened and he whispered: “Oh, poor darling!” Sherlock started stroking her head. John lay down on his side of the bed and just when they thought their daughter was fast asleep, she mumbled: “May I have a rabbit that glows in the dark, papa?” Sherlock snorted and said softly: “We will ask uncle Mycroft, maybe he can arrange it.” With that she fell fully asleep. One should never underestimate the magic of a warm bed and the power of children to talk themselves to sleep. Later would be enough time to speak about the blog, to work through the emotional impact of the loss of Mister Pickles and to talk about the consequences of skipping classes, John decided. 

John looked down on his daughter’s little face and he saw Mary in her. Sherlock said, she looked like him, but sometimes this little girl looked like Mary. He had loved Mary. He had mourned over her for a long time. Sometimes he mourned over the idea he had of her, sometimes not. And Sherlock stayed the whole time and waited. Sometimes John was sorry for the time they had lost because of all his brooding… 

Sherlock’s hand found his and entangled them. Their right hands were both decorated by a small gold band on the ringfinger. It was still new. 

But it is what it is and it is love. 

And sometimes love needs time.


End file.
